lā ʾilāha ʾillā llāh muḥammadun rasūlu llāh
by she-who-hears
Summary: Gabrielle Daou may have passed, but apparently some things still live on. AKA, Violet is the Muslim superhero we all need in our lives.
1. Chapter 1

Violet _adores _living.

She has second and third and fourth chances at living everyday, a feat no hero can truly claim. Unless Catwoman really does have nine lives like Harper told her.

She loves the late night Full House marathons, and Artemis's moonlit smile, and Nightwing's secret winks when he secretly (_ shhhh _) sneaks her more ice cream way past her assigned bed-time.

"You deserve it, kiddo," he laughs to her, and Violet feels a warmth in her chest. "My baby brother makes those exact same eyes whenever he wants to be spoiled."

She loves hearing Forager's lil plink-plink-plinks when he scurries across the yard, and Brion's snorts when he laughs far too improper than a blah blah Prince of the Beloved Markovia blah blah should. Not to mention Jefferson's scraggly beard that always tickles her when she hugs him and Helga's crooked glasses across the bridge of her nose.

So logically, it should be a surprise when she discovers she perhaps does not adore going on missions, when in fact the whole gosh-darn reason she's _here _is to help-comfort-save.

Pardon her language, _astafirullah _.

Violet is too busy picking at the tight-tight-tight material of her costume when Artemis pauses the television. Uncle Jesse's face permanently stares hunkily into the camera.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" Artemis asks, gently in that way she always seems to act around Violet.

"Hm? Oh, yes!" Violet frantically assures, smiling over the fuzzy pink blanket Jefferson threw over her. "It is just…" Violet trails off, but Artemis's nut-brown eyes still focus on her. Huffing, Violet throws herself over Artemis's lap, feeling archer-thin fingers softly tracing her nose.

"I enjoy looking-fighting-saving, but whenever I'm in the air, or making a shield, or just standing, I cannot help but feel...itchy." Artemis makes an encouraging croon at the back of her throat. _Go on. _

"And it is so strange! Because whenever I am not Halo-at-missions but Violet-at-home or Violet-at-school, I feel, um…" Violet can't conjure up a word to accurately describe her emotions. Her eyes light up, and she sits up, looking at Artemis with a wide grin.

"Asterous!"

"Looks like somebody's been spending too much time with Wonder Boy there." Artemis chuckles, and pulls Halo more securely into her lap Batman-Robin style like the affection-starved parents they were.

"Well, what's different about Halo-at-missions and Violet-at-home?"

Violet taps her finger against her lips, her fingers still grasping at her tight-tight-tight costume. "I think it's my clothes." she finally confesses. "The costume is too tight-tight-tight. I don't feel good in it."

Artemis gently bumps her head at Violet's pout. "That's an easy fix, Vi. Yikes, actually, I'm the one who should be sorry."

Violet's head tilts cutely to the side and _wow _she can now understand why Dick always coos over Jason and Timmy and Cass. There's just something about children looking up with big bright eyes and boopable noses. Nevertheless, she digresses. "We know you're Muslim, honey, and we should have consulted you first."

Violet gently bumps her head back like Batman whenever his children recover from danger and he must push down his "protect babies at all costs" protocol.

Three days later Halo soars the sky in a loose-fitting cloth over an armored under-suit, the itch that was simmering under her skin disappearing with every graceful fly.

She smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

4:20 a.m. in the morning.

And here unfortunately rose two peppy aliens, a brain-dead kryptonian, a snoozing genetically-enhanced lap dog, a lightning-powered superhero with his face smushed in a bowl of oatmeal, a coffee-gripped doctor, a dopey prince, a delirious half-cyborg teenager, a Grayson choking on cheerios, a slightly depressed mama™, and one conflicted Violet Harper.

"You know, you all didn't have to fast with me." Violet nervously explained. She was slightly shivering in the cold morning air, Brion's soft-safe-dark sweatshirt doing little to quell the pit in her stomach. She could hear Forager's lil plink-plink-plinks behind her, probably searching for a blanket to properly insulate one of his Hive-Mates. Most of her friends were planning to abstain from food for a week, although Forager and Brion had insisted on fasting the whole month with her.

"You're good, honey." Jefferson mumbled, face still smushed in his bowl of oatmeal. "I have kids. If I can watch Despicable Me three times a day, I can fast for god-knows-how-long too."

Artemis stretched and reached over to plant a kiss upon Violet's head, before walking off to pour a glass of water for Dick, who was slowly starting to turn blue.

Violet's mouth lifted up at her mismatched little family before taking a bite of her own toast. She honestly doesn't remember a lot from Gabrielle's life, but she catches glimpse of _another_ family during suhoor together. An older woman holding a tender-cheeked toddler. Minced meat and flat bread across a faded brown table. Slipping on sandals before a long trek to the masjid while a man sings about the prophet (_sallallahu alayhi wassalam) _and his hardened bones and his forgiving eyes.

She remembers that.

Violet doesn't exactly know _why_ this scene makes her feel happy-sad but it does. Sometimes she feels like she shouldn't feel any emotions whatsoever. That she's selfish for owning Gabrielle's clothes and embracing Gabrielle's religion and wearing Gabrielle's _face_ when there's a grieving family out there with a Gabrielle-sized hole that a Violet-sized piece can never truly fill.

"But what about training?" Violet asked, furrowing her brows as Victor and Brion began to sword fight with their forks.

Lifting his head from M'gann's shoulder, Connor yawned so greatly everyone else simultaneously yawned in response. "We've developed a night-time based schedule. Also, you all should probably nap for an hour or two after school anyway, just to be sure. The shortened-sleep is more concerning."

"Does anybody else realize how weird yawning is?" Dick spoke to absolutely no one. "It's like, 'oh, I'm tired. Lemme just expose my teethful food hole for all to see, like some promiscuous hippopotamus."

"Dick."

"I've thought about this since I was a child."

Violet ignored them as Victor silently mouthed 'teethful' to an equally perplexed Helga.

"Kiddo, chill." Artemis said while wrapping her arms behind Violet's head. Violet instantly turned around to hug Artemis, feeling the warmth of her skin and the gentle _thump-thump_ of her heart. Violet places her head upon Artemis's chest and imagines that she is not a superhero. She is a musician right now and has always been one, and Artemis's heart beat is her unending drum and will always be.

"Can you tell us why this makes you so nervous?" Artemis began, rubbing Violet's back.

Violet stayed silent in the embrace, before hesitantly looking up at Artemis. "I don't want to burden anyone."

Because Violet _is_ a burden. She forced Artemis into being a pseudo-caregiver, and involved so many people into fighting a war they didn't want to be a part of. She goes out with her held up high, while the girl who gave her this body was six feet under. She lives as a thief while others _beg _Allah for a second chance at life for them, their friends, their family.

"You're _not_ burdening us by sharing your culture." Artemis protested instantly, dark eyes alight with righteous anger and Motherly Instincts™. "Were you burdened when we wore _Ao Dais_ at Lian's birthday? Or when we went to the Pride Parade with Harper and Cullen?"

"No!" Violet cried. "I loved the dresses and the colors and the parade!"

"Why did you love the dresses and the colors and the parade?" Artemis asked, softer. Violet licked her lips in thought. It wasn't really the things themselves that she loved. It was more of a...

Feeling she loved. Of _people_ she loved.

"Because it made my friends happy." She finally whispered. Artemis smiled knowingly.

"And that's why we want to do this with you. Because we love you and we like seeing you happy, dummy."

"I agree with 'Mis, Vi." Dick added as he ate his second (?) bowl of cereal. "My family didn't hesitate learning some Romani for me, or taking me to Haly's whenever they were in town."

"And _you _didn't hesitate giving up ice cream with us for Lent." Brion added. Him and Helga both smiled at Violet, remembering her excitement when they both explained their Catholic, Markovian roots. She even gave up her favorite food, and Brion even remembers her _hugging_ the ice cream carton before reluctantly placing it almost lovingly in the trash. Man, she was a weirdo. A pretty weirdo though.

Violet turned to Brion, who was blushing softly. He placed his hand upon hers and gently squeezed. "Family doesn't do burden."

"Hive does what Hive-Mate does!"

Violet finally giggled, scrunching her nose when Artemis squeezed it teasingly. "You better finish eating if you wanna pray Fajr soon, though. I am not waking you up if you wanna nap now."

Violet ate her breakfast with a newfound optimism, even while Gabrielle-faced but Violet-minded. Happy-sad to happy-happy.

She knows somewhere beyond their little kitchen seats a family, with a tender-cheeked toddler giggling at his Uncle's silly faces, and an older woman admonishing her teenage son for eating so little, and a man recounting the stories of people chosen by the heavens.

Gabrielle Daou was not with that family no matter how much Violet wished. She was dead. But Violet was comforted by the thought that Gabrielle was reunited with the angels in _Jannah_, safe and protected and sound.

Violet can only hope she can give others the same.

* * *

**Bonus: Iftar**

Violet eagerly dug into her (halal) burger, watching Helga eagerly demolish level after level of Candy Crush.

"One tooth, two teeth." Dick said solemnly, furthering the torture of his kryptonian friend.

"Dick I am literally begging you."

"One goose, two geese."

"I'm almost married please." Connor cried.

"One foot, two feet."

Connor cried harder.

"One boob."

"Dick please I'm only 8."

"Two beeb.

The doctors said Connor passed away very painfully.


	3. Chapter 3

It doesn't take long to notice of course, how Victor acts around her. It makes her feel sad foremost, because he's so _gentle_ sometimes her heart aches. It's clear he remembers the father-box, from the way he stares at her bruised cheek slightly too long and the way he scurries away every time she comes near.

The sweet boy feels guilty. Guilty for something he _wasn't _even in control over, but his heart was so big it decided to hold hurt-bad instead of happy-light for actions that weren't his own. Even before their immediate showdown and what Dick described as "the father-box exorcism-Emily Rose style", he still seemed hesitant around her by the way her averted his eyes when Helga thumbed her hijab, or the fact that he never touched her unless she touched him first. It's sweet and soft and sad all at the same time, pulling Halo's heartstrings into a dew-drop melody.

With a set press of her lips, Violet resolves to do everything in her power to settle the knot in her friend's stomach; sometimes people need a little help to feel better, she has learned.

She thinks he's less skittish now though, since he's adjusted his new life as a teenage robot and the father-box was expelled. One day she and all of her family were outside in the front yard, dribbling a basket-ball in the court. Forager, of course, was thriving, as Brion tried to explain that he was letting everyone win, which nobody believed. If Violet looked back, she could see Dick with his family, Barbara Gordon looking fresh-faced as she wheeled a glass of lemonade to Connor, Dick's younger brother Tim, who had thoroughly attached himself to Dick's person in an effort to shield himself from The Sun, and an unknown boy, only a year or two younger than Dick.

("Name's Mason Podd," the boy saluted, as Artemis face-palmed behind her. "Pleasure t'make the acquaintance.")

Violet and Megan were staring into each other, the ball firmly nestled in Violet's hands. The game _technically_ said no powers, but Violet was a slippery one. She ducked in between Megan's legs, who squawked and laughed in one strange sound. Violet bounded toward the net, looking quizzically below it. If she wasn't to use her powers, how was she to get up there and win?

Suddenly, she feels a presence around her, steps too sturdy to be Forager's and less prominent to be Brion's. Victor hovers his hands uncertainly over her waist, asking for silent permission. Violet stretches at her tiptoes, lightly holding the ball at the tips of her fingers. Victor gently holds her by the waist and picks her up easily, enough for her to place the ball through the hoop. She laughs with glee as Victor spins her around while gloating, and finds that she very much likes Victor picking her up.

Violet can _fly_ so she shouldn't really feel overjoyed if she can soar past skylines every night, but Victor's arms were protective and she feels that she could set fire to the entire world and he would _still _want to protect her. He puts her down to smile smugly at Megan, but it softens when he looks at Violet. Violet wraps her arm around him and places her head on his shoulder, leaning up slightly because she's like, the second shortest person on the team. The shortest if you don't count Forager, who really isn't even a _person _person.

"You know, before the accident," Victor says quietly to her, and she feels oh-so special because only _she_ is supposed to hear the secret, "I played varsity basketball at school. It's like regular basketball, but way harder."

"Why aren't you playing it now?" Violet asks innocently. Now, Violet might have been rather naïve at times, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew suddenly emerging with cyborg parts would scare people at best and harm people at worst, but what she doesn't understand is why Victor stopped playing if he enjoyed it so much. She hasn't seen him smile so freely since, well, ever.

"Bad memories, I guess," he confesses, shrugging lightly. "Dad never really outwardly supported me, and when he did, it was when placing the damn father-box in me. It's scary, you know? Waking up completely different. Two beings joining under one body. You don't realize how much you depend on your identity until you're forced to question it."

Violet understood perfectly. From vague memories of landing in a country of fair-skinned royalty and cruel words to the mother-box functioning in a very human body. She says nothing though, because she doesn't think shiny words would soothe pain of the heart.

'We'll make new memories then. Better ones," She says determinedly, and Victor believes her. He wants to believe her. "Just look around. We're a _team_."

Connor was nursing a pouting Megan by repeatedly poking her in the cheek until she snorted and headbutted him in his shoulder. Jefferson was frantically searching for his lost daughters, who were sitting in a tree directly above him, laughing at the lack of braincells their father owned. Helga was engrossed in Forager's lower arms, thinking of designing armor for the more vulnerable lower appendages of her alien son. Artemis was sitting and looking as beautiful as ever, because Violet honestly believed Artemis was the prettiest person in the world.

Mason was attempting to see how many twigs he could flick into Barbara's hair without her noticing. His record was one, while Tim busied himself by tapping at his phone screen, face half-smushed into Dick's arm.

"Timmy, go play."

"Mrphgn."

"Tim, you need to think the words before you say them."

"Ugh! Fine." Tim groaned very teenager-like, and wangsted his way towards the teens. Shuffling his feet, his stood right next to a concerned Brion.

"Uh...whatcha got there, little dude?" Victor asked, gesturing at Tim's screen.

"Hm, this?" Tim replied, fingers still tapping against the screen. "It's a transmitter I designed to completely monitor the stocks of Wallstreet and formulate a nearly perfect algorithm to estimate the probability of success of specific companies and industries. If I were any of you, I'd start investing in Furbies, like, now."

"Where do you find time for this?" Brion asked, secretly sending a prayer for the poor child.

"I don't do homework," Tim deadpanned, peering up at Brion. "Hm. You're tall." Tim proceeded to slunk upon Brion's arm to continue his quest in avoiding The Sun.

"Yep," Victor said fondly, as Brion sputtered ceremoniously. "A big ole' team of freaks."


End file.
